Reflections
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: She had done all she could to be the daughter her father desired, but now, after all these years in America, when she looked in the mirror, why didn't she recognize the woman staring back at her? McGiva. Post-Shabbat Shalom. Based on Reflection from Mulan.


**Reflection**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: She had done all she could to be the daughter her father desired, but now, after all these years in America, when she looked in the mirror, why didn't she recognize the woman staring back at her? McGiva. Post-_Shabbat Shalom_. Based on _Reflection_ from _Mulan_.**

_"You are loyal to me, and to Israel!"_

The footsteps were muffled, but she recognized them. She could hear Tim on the other side of the door, getting ready for bed, and leaned around the small partitioned wall, squinting through the steam and making sure the bathroom door was shut. She lay back against the tub, lifting a foot out of the bubble-filled water to study the paint on her toes.

She sighed in defeat; chipped. And on her big toe- the nail was broken.

A soft snort of derision escaped her throat.

_How fitting, just like you._

Slowly, she lowered her foot back into the warm water just as the bathroom door opened and Tim slipped inside, heading to the sink. He stopped, however, and she looked up, his green eyes studying her. "You okay, Zi?" She nodded, silent. He continued to the sink, and she watched in silence as he brushed his teeth, before returning her gaze to the bubbles floating atop the water. When she looked up next, it was to Tim perched on the edge of the tub, concern in his gaze. Gently, he reached out, taking her chin in his hand. "I'm so sorry, Ziva. So terribly, terribly sorry."

She shrugged, as he leaned over the side of the tub, resting his forehead to hers. A moment passed, before she took a deep breath,

"It does not matter, Tim. People die every day. My father's time was bound to come; he was not a young man. His death was to be expected." He pulled away, studying her features.

"You don't have to be strong now, Ziva. You just lost your father. You can scream and you can cry. It's a normal part of grieving." She gave him a small, tight smile, reaching up and gently patting his cheek.

"I am okay, Tim." He watched her, raising an eyebrow. "I will be out soon." After a moment, he nodded, kissing her quickly. She watched him stand, before meeting his gaze.

"I'll be outside if you need me." Instead of replying, she ducked beneath the water; Tim snorted softly and slipped out of the bathroom, shutting the door. Once the door clicked shut, she opened her eyes; the water and the soap didn't bother her. She watched the bubbles above her slowly separate; they collapsed in on each other, becoming a single layer of soap upon the water's surface-

_Like what's become of your family._

She shook her head, closing her eyes and reaching up, fingers finding the Star of David around her neck. The metal was slick, and after a moment, she let go of the pendant, flexing her fingers as she lay her hands at her sides. The bubbles popped, dissipating into the air, the water began to cool, and despite her hidden beneath the film of soap, her skin began to pebble into goose bumps.

_"Ziva."_

She shifted her head, ignoring Tim as he called to her; his voice muffled thanks to the water.

_"Ziva."_

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

And found herself staring up into her father's face as he leaned over her; the blood from the bullet wound in his chest dripping into the bathtub. She bolted upright, gasping hungrily for air, only to find herself alone. Water splashed repeatedly over the side of the tub onto the tile floor, the sound mirroring the rapid beat of her heart. She looked around, searching for her father, but she was alone.

"You okay, Zi?" Her head snapped towards the door.

"Y... yes. I... I will be out soon, Tim!" She quickly reached up, grabbing the towel that hung over the curtain rod and then scrambled as fast as she dared from the tub, wrapping the towel around herself. Without a word, she made her way to the door, locking it. Then, taking deep, slow breaths, she made her way to the sink. With shaking hands, she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face, images of her father's lifeless body flashing through her mind as the water dripped from her chin back into the porcelain basin.

Eli was dead; it was her fault.

_If you'd been a good daughter, done what you were told, this never would have happened-_

She shook her head. No! Tim was right, it_ wasn't_ her fault. But the tiny voice in the back of her head just sniggered.

_Your father is dead_ because_ of you_. _You had a part to play- the part your father had groomed you for- and you can't even play it right! You went and became attached to these Americans- No! Abba was a monster- he got what he deserved. So he deserved to die last night? No..._

She took a deep breath, grabbing onto the edges of the sink as she leaned over it. Her whole body shook, and tears began to prick at the backs of her eyes. A moment passed, before she slowly raised her head-

The woman that stared back at her wasn't one she recognized. She wasn't a woman at all; she was a child, about ten years of age, with long dark curls held back with a thin black headband, dressed in a long-sleeved green top, a gold Star of David around her neck. The girl's eyes were filled with sadness, and yet, there was a glimmer of hope midst the sadness that seemed to overwhelm the brown orbs.

_You were strong once. You could have walked away from your father's world. You could have been free. Things could have been different._

She closed her eyes, choking on a soft sob.

_You did this to yourself._

Her eyes snapped open. The girl had disappeared; a teenager stared back at her, long curls pulled into a ponytail over her shoulder, the flannel shirt she wore too big for her, the necklace winking in the light. Dirt and dust covered her face, and that same sadness clouded her gaze. The glimmer of hope was gone, replaced with heartbreak and regret-

_It's because of you that Tali died. If you had gone with her, you could have protected her. You had no choice, you had to go into Mossad. It's because of Tali that you got revenge._ _You're a killer; you've always been a killer._ _You will_ always _be a killer._

She took a deep breath. She had tried, desperately, to play the part, to learn everything her father wanted her to learn and fool those around her. And she had, to a degree. She'd been able to fool everyone, to put duty and honor before feeling-

But then she'd fallen in love with Tim.

_And you screwed everything up. You were supposed to be the good daughter; you were supposed to follow orders. _

A soft sob escaped her throat. She never meant to disobey, and try as she might, her heart had rebelled. It had taken control for the first time in forever, making the decisions, clouding her judgment, tugging her away from her father's influence and towards the team and the man who had claimed her heart from their first meeting.

When she looked up next, it was to the sight of a young woman, just out of college. She wore the tan uniform of a Mossad officer, her long dark curls tied back and hidden beneath a headscarf. The necklace still hung about her neck, and that sadness that had been so dominant had hardened- it had turned into suspicion and distrust; not an ounce of hope remained.

She had come to America expecting nothing- not an ounce of kindness from the team. She had expected to do her job and return to Israel, but then she'd killed Ari to save Gibbs, and Jenny had asked she stay.

_You were never what your father wanted; you disappointed him at every turn. No! I tried, I really did. _

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, telling herself that the voice was wrong.

_You didn't try hard enough._

"I... I tried, I _swear_..." She choked on the words, raising her head once more to the mirror. The woman that stared back at her was one that had changed so much over the years. Gone were the long, dark wild curls about her face; now pulled back in a high, sleek ponytail. Her makeup was perfect- a rich cornucopia of beige's and blacks, soft greens and subtle raspberries. The red blouse she wore fit perfectly to her body, the grey pantsuit tailored perfectly to her small form. The necklace still lay there, against her skin, though it had lost its shine. Within her eyes, all the pain and anger she'd kept hidden for years shone bright- a neon sign that screamed to her what a failure as a daughter she was.

_If you had tried harder- I have tried! I have given everything I am to Mossad, to NCIS, to Abba! I have played a different role from the time I was a child- I have kept myself hidden for years! The only one who's ever seen the secret me was Tim- and he accepted her! Abba is not here anymore! I can't pretend anymore! I'm not someone else, I'm me! That doesn't change anything..._

Sobs worked their way up her throat, and she turned the faucet on, splashing water onto the mirror in anger. As the water ran down the surface, she struggled to keep the sobs down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm herself. But when she opened her eyes again, she found the four of them watching her. She shook her head. "No! It's not my fault! It's not- this isn't who I am! Show _me_! When will you show _me_? I don't know who you are! Please! Show _me_ who _I am_! _Please_!"

Then, she reached out, slamming her hands onto the mirror, covering as much as she could before she broke down. Her hands fell from the mirror and she sank to the floor. Her arms wrapped around her knees, and she let the sobs she'd struggled to control overtake her. In the haze of her own grief-stricken anguish, she vaguely heard Tim call to her, though she didn't unlock the door.

_When will my reflection show who_ I _am inside?_

When her sobs finally calmed down, she slowly climbed to her feet. Her gaze locked on the mirror as she leaned over the sink; the four images had disappeared, leaving only her- curls drying against her damp skin, towel wrapped securely around her small body. She hiccuped softly, swiping at the tears still running down her cheeks. A soft _clink!_ tugged her gaze from the mirror-

Her Star of David lay within the sink, worn and rusting from years against her skin.

She reached up, feeling the chain, only to discover it had worn thin to the point where it had broken in two. As she pulled the chain off her neck, her hand reached down and picked up the star. She studied both for a moment before glancing at the mirror. _She_ was still there.

She glanced back at the chain and star, and, taking a deep breath, took both and dropped them into the wastebasket. Then, she quickly splashed water on her face and changed into her pajamas, hanging up the towel with a sense of relief settling in her soul. As she unlocked the door and pulled it open, she turned back. Her hand reached up to turn off the light, and she glanced back in the mirror.

Even far away, she caught the glimmer of hope that had returned to her eyes. "Coming to bed, Zi?" She glanced towards the bedroom, and then, without a word, turned off the light and shut the door behind her.

In the mirror, the four reflections shared relieved glances before fading away.


End file.
